


I'm glad I got to meet you

by coramalias



Series: Nice to meet you [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coramalias/pseuds/coramalias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night of Allison Argent’s twelfth birthday, the first words her soulmate would speak to her appeared engraved on inside of her left ring finger. Despite her obvious distress, she thought it was quite the romantic place for a soulmate tattoo. Her sobs quieted as she watched the tattoo become more and more visible, until she could see the writing when she tilted her fingers to the light.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>I'm glad I got to meet you before</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm glad I got to meet you

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to Rachel+Chastain and tumblr user malieatate for being so kind

On the night of Allison Argent’s twelfth birthday she sat in the corner of her bedroom closet, knees pulled to her chest and sobs shuddering through her body. Her mom had left her alone a half hour ago, but not after telling her daughter in no uncertain terms that they would be leaving for Los Angeles in precisely three hours. Allison had been frozen on the spot, unable to comprehend that after a year of living in Wako they would be leaving so soon. She tried to argue, at least get more time to say goodbye to her friends who had left her birthday party mere hours before, but her protests were no use. Her mother had forcibly packed her suitcases before her very eyes and thrown it to the foot of her bed, assuring Allison that her friends weren't lifelong anyway. 

On the night of Allison Argent’s twelfth birthday, the first words her soulmate would speak to her appeared engraved on inside of her left ring finger. Despite her obvious distress, she thought it was quite the romantic place for a soulmate tattoo. Her sobs quieted as she watched the tattoo become more and more visible, until she could see the writing when she tilted her fingers to the light. 

_I'm glad I got to meet you before_

Allison’s heart throbbed for a moment before a new wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. There were many explanations to unfinished first words. The most popular one, as Allison was well aware, was the death of a soulmate before they could complete the sentence. 

It had happened to her father. Allison’s mother was not her father’s soulmate, his had died when they were both sixteen. 

So, in the hour that passed Allison came to terms with the fact that she had inherited a family curse, and would never have a life with the one person promised to be permanent in her life. 

When Aunt Kate opened the door, Allison’s tears had dried into a sticky film covering her face and she had accepted her fate. Aunt Kate took one look at her before crouching on the ground beside her and enveloping her only niece in a tight hug. Allison clung to her and allowed herself to be picked up as if she were six years old again, carried to the car and buckled in securely for the long drive ahead of her. 

*** 

When Allison was seventeen years old, she moved from San Francisco to the much smaller town of Beacon Hills. It was there where she felt more at ease than she had in years. She took up archery again, befriended a wonderful girl named Lydia, met an art teacher who encouraged her to take up the hobby once more, and met Scott McCall. 

Scott McCall, whom she readily fell in love with. Unlike her faceless soulmate, Scott was neither doomed to die young nor promised to remain in her life forever. He was a breath of fresh air, a calm in the storm of her life. He was kind, sweet, honest, and didn’t mind that he was not her soulmate. 

He knew how it felt to have a burden of a soulmate tattoo. His body was covered in soulmate tattoos, from the “Hey, cool sandcastle” on his collarbone that belonged to Stiles to the “Thanks” on the soft inside of his forearm that belonged to Allison herself. It was as if he was destined to give pieces of his heart away for the rest of his life, which Allison found both tragic and endearing. Despite the fact that he was not her soulmate, after discovering she was one of his, she couldn't help but love him all the more. 

Of course, it all went to hell when her family turned out to be werewolf hunters. 

Lydia was in the hospital, Scott was a werewolf, Aunt Kate was both a murderer and dead, and she was forbidden to see Scott. 

Scott, the only person besides Aunt Kate who understood her completely. Scott, her chance at a normal life. 

When she was seventeen years old, Allison Argent learned that whether it was her soulmate or not, the universe would not let her be happy. 

*** 

Allison’s mother is bitten by a feral alpha werewolf a few months afterward. 

Allison spirals into a rage, seeking out vengeance wherever she can find it. Before her newfound friends can pull her out of this state, she has acquired an exponential increase of blood on her hands. Whether it is her imagination or otherwise, her soul mark throbs for weeks afterward, a reminder that there is still blood yet to be shed. 

Some nights, Allison dreams of her. 

Victoria Argent sits on a bed with her daughter, braiding her hair into a tight bun atop her head. Allison cries out when her mother accidentally tugs painfully on a section of hair. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” she says, loosening the braid somewhat, “but we don't want your hair falling on your bow.” 

“But Bethany’s mom just cut her hair real short, and she won the championship!” 

“Allison,” she says sharply, “Bethany isn’t half the archer you are. You could win this competition with hair like Rapunzel. Besides, you want to be a princess for Halloween. Princesses have long hair.” 

Despite the tug in her heart when she wakes, she grins to herself for the rest of the morning. 

*** 

“Scott found his soulmate,” Lydia says absentmindedly as she takes another selfie on their pile of homework on Allison’s bed. 

Despite the fact that a year has passed since their breakup, Allison still flinches. “Oh?” She asks carefully. 

“A kitsune named Kira,” she informs her best friend, rolling over to face Allison where she is perched stiffly on the desk chair, pen fallen onto her open textbook in surprise.. 

“It's okay to still miss him, Allison,” she says softly, “you're only human.” 

Allison cracks a genuine smile, the ache that's been settled in her chest for the past year finally starting to loosen. “Unlike you.” 

Lydia throws a pillow at her. 

*** 

Kira Yukimura is a sweet girl, all dimples, rambling soliloquies, and soft curls. 

This is Allison’s opinion of her before the Alpha pack comes to Beacon Hills. 

Allison finds herself crouched on the ground next to her behind a parked car at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, breathing heavily and attempting to muster the courage to go back out and face Jennifer Blake. 

“What is wrong with this teacher?!” Kira whispers, a look of genuine concern on her face. 

Allison laughs breathlessly and shakes her head. “Hell if I know.” 

Kira smiles at the same time that a forceful magical energy splits the car in half, throwing Allison onto the ground and leaving her with a throbbing head wound. 

“Hey!” Kira yells, launching herself off the pavement to stand in front of Allison. 

Jennifer makes a gesture as if to knock Kira out of the way, but the girl doesn't budge. Instead, lightning crackles at her fingertips and the air obtains an aroma of ozone. Allison’s young feels swollen to the roof of her mouth and her vision swims, then all at once it clears. 

When she is once again able to see clearly, she finds Kira hovering over her and a bloodied Jennifer Blake lying on the parking lot. 

“She's just knocked out,” Kira assures her once she sees her line of sight, “her magic worked shit on a kitsune, apparently.” She sounds surprised herself. 

Allison blinks rapidly for a moment, then smiles. “Definitely Scott’s soulmate.” 

A rosy blush colors Kira’s cheeks. 

*** 

Allison hates working at Walmart, she decides when she gets home at midnight. 

Her day was exhausting, but at least she’s found something to busy herself with over the long summer before college. Waiting in the wings to help a pack who still hasn't fully forgiven her for the revenge warpath that followed her mother’s death leaves a lot of free time on her hands. 

She allows her body to fall face-first onto the couch. She's blessed with a few moments of silence before her phone trills the alert of an incoming text. She groans and squints her eyes open to the harsh artificial light of her phone. 

_Are you home yet?_

Allison smiles despite her exhaustion. Her dad is out of town for work, this time on legitimate arms dealing business instead of werewolf hunting. He texts her every six hours on the nose, the worrier that he is. She types a sort response and lets her phone fall to the coffee table as she once more drifts to sleep. 

Just as her breathing begins to even out in relaxation her phone trills again, this time the longer tone of an incoming call. Her father's concern was sweet before, but this is ridiculous. 

Allison grabs her phone and accepts the call. “I'm fine, dad, just,” she sighed, “sleep.” 

“Allison, Sties went after the wendigo with Malia.” 

Oh, now Stiles has the new wolves tangled in his ill advised plans. Allison groans, sitting up and shrugging out of her Walmart staff vest, her phone nudged between her ear and her shoulder. “Where are they?” 

“In the Preserve,” Derek responds, the sound of a car engine muted in the background, “I'm on my way now. He got separated from Malia, then his signal dropped the call.” 

Allison swiftly tugged on a more appropriate pair of jeans and a jacket, then strode out the door with her emergency supplies bag thrown over her shoulder. “I'll be there before you, it's closer to me,” she says as she sticks the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking deck. 

“Want to bet on it?” Derek deadpans, “Meet you there.” 

Her phone beeps three times as an indicator that Derek hung up. “Rude,” Allison remarks, pumping a little more on the gas. 

*** 

Stiles, despite his moments of glory that end up saving all their asses at the last moment, makes really fucking bad decisions. 

Allison lost the bet to arrive at the Preserve first, so when she gets there Stiles is already half hidden within Derek’s protective half-hug. Allison rolls to a stop and leaps out of the car, grabbing her bow and arrows from the shoulder bag on her way out. 

”Where's the other one?” She asks, eyeing Stiles suspiciously. 

“Malia.” Stiles supplies unhelpfuly, “I have no idea. I was hoping Derek would be able to find her by scent, since she's his cousin.” 

“I will,” Derek says solemnly, nodding toward the expanse of tees, “follow me. Scott will be here soon, but I can't go in alone.” 

After some nonverbal argument between Stiles and Derek involving a series of eyebrow movements followed by a deep sigh from the latter, the three of them set off into the dark. Allison keeps up easily, and it takes moments for Derek to find Malia. “There,” he murmurs unnecessarily, for Allison can practically taste the stench of death protruding from the nearby wendigo. 

”Hey, asshole!” Stiles shouts, “Over here!” 

The creature moves sharply, giving away its position. Allison notches an arrow and lets it fly. Then another, and another, as Derek charges it head on. They grapple for a moment evenly, before the wendigo secures its talons snugly in Derek’s ribcage. Stiles cries out as it happens and Allison unthinkingly lets loose another volley of arrows, unthinking of the injured lump laying in the line of fire. She misses a few times, considering how fast the pair are moving with supernatural speed, but manages to avoid hitting Derek anywhere critical. 

She's moments away from unsheathing the dagger hidden in her booth when another roar rolls from behind her and Scott and Kira join the fold. Scott tears the wendigo away from Derek and Kira sets to work protecting her boyfriend as he begins to fight as well. 

Before Allison can release any more arrows, a glint of something catches her eye. Laying at the stump of a tree a few feet away from the battle is a girl around the same age as she who must be Malia. She's slumped at a worrying angle, and doesn't seem to be breathing. Allison makes a wide perimeter around the ensuing fight and rushes to crouch in front of her. She cups her face in her hand and feels for a pulse. Thankfully, there is one. 

“Hey, keep your eyes open.” She says gently, subtly assessing the extent of the girl’s injuries. Why isn't she healing, is she not a werewolf? If she isn't, she has little chance of making it out of this alive, going by the gaping hole where her stomach should be. 

The girls eyes flutter open and pin Allison with an intense stare. Her mouth parts and she breaths out slowly, and something about her is increasingly familiar. 

Then, the worst moment of Allison’s life comes to pass. 

“I'm glad,” she gasps, shuddering through a new wave of pain and clutching at her stomach, “I got to meet you before-“ 

Her sentence is interrupted as a cough wracks through her already weak body. This brings a new wave of blood across her already stained fingertips. Allison’s blood runs cold as the realization hits. 

“No,” she breathes in horror, tightening her grip on her jaw before reaching down and pressing her one hand alongside those of her soulmate in a vain effort to stop the bleeding, “you are not going to die on me, okay? Not you, too. I only just met you.” 

Allison keeps eye contact with her intended, as if she could will her body to regain health by force of will alone. As she watches, Malia’s eyes shift to a golden glow and claws protrude underneath Allison’s touch. Allison watches with a foreign feeling of hope as Malia claws gauges into the flesh of her leg and takes Allison’s own hand with her free one. 

“What's your name?” 

Allison laughs shakily and notices with abject surprise that tears are cascading down her face. “Allison,” she answers, resting her forehead against her soulmate’s and gripping her hand tightly. 

“Malia,” the girl replies as her eyes slip closed. Allison startles, but is soothed by the steady beating of Malia’s pulse at her fingertips. 

*** 

“I'm sorry you didn't have better first words,” Malia tells Allison much, much later as they lay in bed together, early morning light filtering through the drapes and illuminating the remnants of their previous night together. Clothes lay strung across the floor and the wall to Allison’s left has a particularly suspicious dent. Sheets are strewn across the mattress and her hair is a mess, but Allison couldn't be happier. 

“It must have been horrible,” Malia continues, a small crease forming between her brows as she picks at an unraveled seam in the duvet. 

Allison smiled, taking her hand in her own and linking their fingers together. “It wasn't so bad.” 

Malia scoffs, but pulls Allison into her embrace anyway. Allison ends up tucked under her chin, nose in her throat and Malia’s breath tickling the top of her head. She presses a kiss to the skin in front of her and delights in Malia’s appreciate noise made in response. 

“It wasn't. It made our first meeting the best moment of my life. I couldn't believe I'd been lucky enough to avoid a fate I was sure I was doomed to.” Allison sighs, curling her leg around Malia’s waist and burrowing closer to the girl she had so quickly fallen in love with. “I thought I was cursed,” she whispers. 

“Me too.” Malia says quietly as she tightens her grip on her girlfriend. Allison kisses her throat once more before leaning back enough to kiss her properly on the lips, only separating when breath was absolutely necessary. 

“I'm glad I was wrong.” She says as she presses her forehead to Malia’s, breathing heavily. Malia smiles, but chooses not to respond, instead rolling the pair over kissing the living day lights out of her soulmate. Allison accepts this as an enthusiastic agreement.


End file.
